


don't tell me that we've grown (for having loved a little while)

by polynya



Category: Bleach
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, houseplants, meatheads - Freeform, squad 11 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polynya/pseuds/polynya
Summary: Now that he's found a home in Squad 11, Ikkaku worries that maybe it's time for Yumichika to find the place he's meant to be, as well.
Relationships: Ayasegawa Yumichika/Madarame Ikkaku
Comments: 24
Kudos: 94





	don't tell me that we've grown (for having loved a little while)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moustique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moustique/gifts).



> Oh, are we doing "Oh Hellos" titles now? I guess we're doing "Oh Hellos" titles. This one is from "Hello My Old Heart."
> 
> I did this one by request for my faithful commenter Moustique, who asked me to do an IkkaYumi fic about "confessions of love." Now, I *like* IkkaYumi, and they are an obligatory, unspoken pairing in all of my other fic, but I also, like... don't think about them very much? Like, they're there, these ridiculous murder husbands who are deeply in love with each other, and never, ever want to talk about it, and now I have to write a story where they talk about it???
> 
> Anyway, I did it. I gave myself imposter syndrome while I was writing this, because I worried that I didn't love them *enough* to be writing fanfic about them, but I did my best, so please let me know how I did, and many apologies if you feel I've done them a disservice. Many thanks to the Yumichika to my Ikkaku, my beta reader, Luna12, who reassured my nervous ass.
> 
> It's probably pretty obvious, but this takes place about 70 years pre-canon, very shortly after Zaraki takes over Squad 11 and Ikkaku and Yumichika join up. (as chronicled in the Bleach anime episode #119).
> 
> Rated T for about a million f-bombs.

With a clonk, the man (who had said his name, but Ikkaku had promptly forgotten it) hit the dirt, blood pouring from his nose.

_“Who’s next?!”_ Ikkaku roared, glee in his voice.

The greasy scabs of Squad 11 gathered on the sidelines seemed to have lost interest, however. There were a few half-hearted shouts of “Good job, Madarame!” and “I never liked that guy!” and “Congratulations, sir!” but mostly, everyone seemed gathered around _Yumichika_ , of all people, who was passing out crisp white envelopes. Yumichika, who hadn’t even bothered to show up today until just now, as if he was _bored_ of watching Ikkaku beat the shit out of a far finer quality of dirtbag than they had ever had in Rukongai.

“Ain’t nobody next,” a lumpy faced man known as Really Big Maki explained, as he hefted the unconscious body of Ikkaku’s last victim onto his shoulder. “That was everyone. You’re the Third Seat now. You could fight the lieutenant, I guess, but Captain says she stays lieutenant even if someone beats her. An’ the captain, o’ course.”

“I’m the _what_?” Ikkaku snarled.

“Also, it’s quittin’ time, sir, and it’s Friday. If you want some guys to go drinking with, people tend to start gatherin’ around the main gate around seven. I’m sure you’ll want to be celebratin’ your new position, eh?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ikkaku agreed. He wiped down his sword and resheathed it. Come to think of it, it was pretty late in the day and he _was_ getting a little hungry. He sauntered over toward the fence. “Where you been?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Yumichika replied.

“Do you know what a Third Seat is?”

Yumichika heaved a sigh up from the bottom of his feet. “You probably haven’t noticed, but a Court Guard Squad isn’t just a perpetual floating pit fight,” he lectured. “The captain receives missions from the Head Captain, in addition to certain standing duties. There is a rank hierarchy of officers in charge of executing these orders, as well as ensuring that their subordinates are fed, housed and properly trained.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“You have just established yourself as the number three officer in the squad. My understanding is that in most companies, the captain and lieutenant do a great deal of this work.” Yumichika did not complete that statement.

“Well, who used to do it?” Ikkaku demanded.

“Oh, the former lieutenant? He transferred to the 7th. Apparently didn’t take well to being displaced by a toddler. I’ve been looking over the rolls, and there have been quite a few transfers. Historically, that always happens when a new Kenpachi comes in, I hear.”

“Why you lookin’ through the fucking rolls?” Ikkaku scowled, rubbing his head.

“Because I am the _Fifth Seat_ ,” Yumichika chirped primly, tossing his hair. Ikkaku wasn’t used to it so short. He hadn’t decided if he liked it, yet, but Yumichika was excited about it. “You obviously aren’t going to do any of this, and I imagine our Fourth Seat is going to spend the next few days in bed.”

“Hn,” Ikkaku replied. “Why bother?”

Yumichika passed over one of the envelopes. “Your paycheck, Madarame.”

“My... “ Ikkaku ripped it open eagerly. He’d been vaguely aware that there was cash involved in this deal, not that it made that big a difference to him, but he was still pretty excited about it. His eyes widened when he saw the number on the chit. “What the _fuck_?” he screeched.

“You’ll get a lot more next month, now that you’re an officer,” Yumichika explained.

“ _More?_ This is more money than I’ve ever had in my _life_! And they gave us a place to sleep and we can get free food from the mess whenever we want. What the _fuck_?” He gripped his head. “How do I turn this paper thing into money? Let’s go get drunk!”

Yumichika snorted. “They have things in the Seireitei called _banks_. You can turn this in for kan. Or you can open an account and they’ll hold some of it for you.”

Ikkaku’s face scrunched. “I ain’t letting no banks go drinking on my paycheck.”

“Do be careful. Things in the city cost a lot more than out in Rukongai. It seems like a lot, but it will run out faster than you think.”

“Is this enough to get wasted on?”

“I suppose so. You’ll have to find someone else to go out with, though, I have big plans for mine.”

Ikkaku felt mildly disappointed at this, but he didn’t let it show. Yumichika had always been a more moderate drinker than himself anyway. There just wasn’t a whole lot else to do in Rukongai, besides drinking and fighting. If Yumi had found something better to do, good on him. Some of these Squad 11 shitheads seemed they might be a bit more fun at the bar in any case.

“Well, uh, have fun with that, neh?”

“Thank you,” Yumichika replied, arching his perfect eyebrows in a way that made Ikkaku almost want to suggest that maybe they _both_ skip the boozing in favor of a night in. “I shall.”

* * *

Ikkaku woke the next morning to a roaring headache. He squinted over to the side, but Yumichika’s futon was already folded and neatly stowed in the cupboard. Lurching to his feet, Ikkaku stumbled into the bathroom, and glanced around with horror. There had to be at least ten glass bottles full of colored liquids and powders and… unguents? Ikkaku honestly didn’t want to know. He tried not to touch any of them as he splashed some water on his face.

He wandered back out into the living area, wondering where the hell Yumichika had gone off to. It wasn’t like him to be up this early.

Their room had come with a plain, scratched, but serviceable table. There were three items on it that weren’t usually there.

The first was a plant. In a pot. Ikkaku didn’t know shit about plants. This one was green and had big, floppy, lacy leaves. It didn’t look noticeably different than any of the thousands of plants that Ikkaku had walked past all his life, the ones that grew perfectly well on their own out of doors, with no need for pots or attention.

The second item was a little box made of perfectly white paperboard, with something written in fancy script on the top. Ikkaku was even more wary of it than the potions in the bathroom.

The third item was a piece of paper tucked under the corner of the box. Gingerly, Ikkaku picked it up and unfolded it.

Ikkaku was not the best reader in Soul Society. Ikkaku was not very good at reading, period. Yumichika was, though, and had insisted on him learning at least a few basic words. The note said “For Ikkaku!” in Yumi’s graceful hand. There was a little grinning Yumi sketched down in the corner, winking saucily.

Ikkaku shoved out his lower jaw grumpily, and pried open the box. Nestled inside were two red bean buns. They were likely left over from the previous evening, since the box was sized for four, but they were still golden and soft-looking.

“I ain’t eating any desserts for breakfast, you fancy shit,” Ikkaku grumbled. He contemplated the mess hall-- the distance from his room, the fact that he would have to put on pants, the clatter of silverware, dozens of walking hangovers clustered together in the same room, jostling with each other. Ikkaku shoved a bun in his mouth and went back to bed.

* * *

“Strange place, the Seireitei,” the Kenpachi mused, leaning back against the fence and taking a drink of water.

“Uhn,” Ikkaku grunted, from his prone position on the ground.

“Life in the Rukongai was simple,” Zaraki went on. “Fight a guy. Look for another guy to fight. Fight him, too.”

“Get drunk sometimes,” Ikkaku chipped in.

“Yeah, sure. But mostly just fighting. It’s different here. Plenty of fighting, sure, but you don’t have to go anywhere, which frees up a lot of time. You can take a bath every day if you want. Yachiru likes it here and I don’t feel bad lettin’ her run around on her own.” He scratched his hip. “The fighting’s different, too. These Squad 11 guys, they’re way better than the usual turdfaces, but they still suck. They’re always training, though, trying to get better! I’d never trained a day in my life before I got here.”

Ikkaku hefted himself up into a sitting position, hoping it wouldn’t cause too much blood to come out his nose. “Do you train now?”

“Nah. Been thinking about giving it a try, though. There’s also all these other captains that I’m dying to fight. I think some of ‘em might even be able to beat me, if I could convince them to get down off High Snot Mountain and fight me. That would be pretty exciting.

“I doubt it,” Ikkaku snorted, reaching for his own water cup.

“They can do this thing with their swords, where it turns into another kinda sword, a better one. Some of the guys in our own squad can do it, but they kinda suck. I hear some of the captains’ swords are really impressive.”

Ikkaku drew his own sword out of its sheath and surveyed it curiously. They had given it to him when he enlisted and gave him a bunch of bullshit about carrying it with him wherever he went. It was a good sword, to be sure, much better than the one he had carried around the Rukon. “You get one of these fancy shinigami swords, too?” he asked, waving it for emphasis.

“Naw, I already had one I took off a dead shinigami once. It’s served me well, don’t see a reason to go changing something that works.”

“Mmm,” Ikkaku replied thoughtfully.

“Hey, I sure am glad you and that other guy showed up. What is he, your brother?”

“Nah, he’s my…um... we fuck sometimes.”

“Oh, okay. Anyway, you guys are worth a dozen of these other chickenshits. I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

Ikkaku cracked his neck. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we are.”

Zarak tossed his empty cup on the ground. “You ready to go again?”

Ikakku wiggled the two fingers that he suspected might be broken. They were mostly numb. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Another Friday night in the Seireitei. Apparently, the burning need for funny smelling hair tonics and indoor greenery had been met, because Fifth Seat Ayasegawa had deigned to join them this week. As Ikkaku slammed his sake saucer to the table, he realized he hadn’t seen his roommate in a while, and decided to take a spin around the barroom.

He found Yumichika at a table with a couple of shinigami Ikkaku didn’t know-- a big, bluff guy with a square jaw and slicked back hair, and a blonde woman who could only be described as drop-dead gorgeous. Ikkaku didn’t really see what the fuss was over women, but even he could tell this one was impressive. A couple of the higher seats were here, too, ones with brain cells, Ugly Maki and Tokuyama.

“Ahh, here he is!” Yumichika announced. “Ikkaku, I got some of my new friends to come out!”

Ikkaku jerked his chin by way of greeting.

“I told you he was charming,” Yumichika teased. “This is Matsumoto Rangiku, Fifth Seat at the Tenth.”

“We match, both Five!” the woman chirped, and Yumichika beamed.

“And Iba Tetsuzaemon, Eighth Seat at the Third.” Iba gave Ikkaku a curt nod of respect.

“Why would you want to drink with the Eleventh?” Ikkaku grunted.

“Oh, I’ll drink with anyone,” Matsumoto replied flippantly.

“I _invited them_ , Ikkaku,” Yumichika replied, sounding a bit irritated. “We’ve lost a bunch of seated officers, lately-- the Fourth Seat quit yesterday, by the way. Apparently the fact that I wouldn’t fight him for his seat even though I’m much better than he made him ‘nervous.’ In any case, you and I certainly don’t know how to run a squad. I thought it would be _prudent_ to make friends with a few of our counterparts.”

Matsumoto let off a beautiful peal of laughter. “I don’t know why you picked me, then, I’m terrible at paperwork!”

“You double as make-up advice,” Yumichika replied warmly. “Also, Iba and I have been chatting about _lateral career moves_.”

“It’s good to have a broad experience,” Iba declared.

“People don’t join the Eleventh for career experience,” Ikkaku replied, an expert, now that he had been here for an entire month. “The Eleventh is for men who like to fight.”

“I like to fight,” Iba replied, completely unphased by Ikkaku’s prickliness. “A man can enjoy fighting and also have ambitions. Ambitions give you something to fight for.”

“My ambition is to get extremely drunk,” Matsumoto laughed. Everyone laughed with her, even Ikkaku. Even though he really didn’t feel it.

* * *

Each progressive paycheck filled their quarters with more stuff.

Some of the mysterious bottles and tubes disappeared from the bathroom and new ones appeared in their wake.

Two more plants joined the first one. One of them sat on the floor and had tall pointy leaves. Another sat in the window and grew little purple flowers covered in soft down.

The old, scratched up trash table disappeared, and a lovely, polished aspen tea table took its place.

Several kimono appeared in Yumichika’s closet. First, a bright blue one splashed with chrysanthemums in brilliant reds and golds. Second, an elegant one in a dusty purple with a subtle gray design of interlocking circles. Finally, another ostentatious one in bright peacock colors that Yumichika began wearing to bed. That one turned out to be _extremely_ silky.

Then, there were the books.

“Iba loaned some to me,” Yumichika explained. “Rangiku thought she had thrown all hers out, but then she found some in the back of her closet. She said I could keep them, she never wanted to see them again.”

They were smart people books, from the shinigami school that most other squads recruited from. Books on theory of swordplay, special movement techniques, famous shinigami of the past. Worst of all were the fat, inscrutable volumes on demon magic.

“Kenpachi don’t truck with that shit,” Ikkaku reminded Yumichika, pointing an accusatory finger.

Yumichika waved his hand dismissively from the nest of pillows he had ensconced himself in. “I’m not going to _do_ any of it. But we look stupid when we don’t know the difference between a hadou and a bakudou. Also, this,” he wiggled the book he was reading, “is the real deal. Unlocking your zanpakutou.”

Ikkaku scratched his knee. “I saw Hosaka’s. It just turns into an axe, and he’s still terrible with it.”

“You need to skulk around other squads and get a glimpse of a lieutenant or a captain’s release. Rangiku showed me hers.” Yumichika made a moue. “She beat the shit out of me.”

Ikkaku goggled. “We’re talking about the drunk with all the boobs, right?”

“I’ve heard other shinigami say she has lieutenant potential,” Yumichika shrugged. “Frankly, it was _inspiring_. I am sure my own shikai is going to be extremely beautiful.” He did that stupid sexy eyebrow quirk again. “Maybe I’ll take that Third Seat from you after all.”

“Fuck _that_ noise!” Ikkaku howled. “I’ll unlock my sword long before you, anyway!”

Yumichika cleared his throat. “Would you like me to read this out loud? Maybe we can work on some of these techniques… together?”

Ikkaku crossed his arms with a huff. “Yeah, sure, but only ‘cause your reading voice is really hot.”

“We’re not going to learn anything if you keep interrupting me for sexual purposes.”

“I’ll just have to live with that,” Ikkaku replied.

* * *

A steady stream of curses ran from Ikkaku’s mouth as he ran through the dusty streets of this Rukongai town the squad had been dispatched to protect. A pack of shadowy Hollows had taken up residence here, killed nearly all the citizens, and gone to ground when the shinigami appeared.

Zaraki and Kusajishi had run off immediately, but the rest of them had split into groups to cover area more efficiently. Ikkaku was still getting used to tracking things by their reiatsu, but Arai, who was allegedly pretty good at it, said there was something weird about these guys-- they flickered in and out, made it hard to get a lock on ‘em, and every place they’d looked had turned up empty.

“I bet there’s a King Hollow,” Hammerhead Maki theorized. “Like that plant Hollow we fought that time that put out all those little vine runners. Bet all these shadows are comin’ from one big strong guy.”

“If that’s the case, I hope Zaraki finds it first,” Arai grumbled. “That plant bastard took out seven people.”

“Fuck you cowards!” Ikkaku exclaimed. “I’ll fight a King Hollow! I’ll fight two at once!”

But when the massive spike of dark reiatsu came, it was from the southern quarter of town, where Yumichika’s group was assigned.

Ikkaku was running so fast that his side hurt, and his eyes swam. He swore to himself that he would learn that dumb flash movement thing Yumi was always on about. Abruptly, he ran headlong into an iron post, which turned out to be the outstretched arm of the Kenpachi.

“What are you doing?” Ikkaku screamed. “Why aren’t you helping him?”

“Fights in the Eleventh are one-on-one,” the Kenpachi rumbled in return. “Besides. Don’t look like he needs it.”

It was hard to see anything, actually. The hollow was a dark mass of writhing tentacles that put off a cold, misty fog. But in the depths of the darkness, Yumichika was luminescent with reiatsu, slashing and stabbing with all the elegance of a courtesan performing a fan dance.

“That guy’s _really_ close to shikai,” Arai murmured to Hammerhead. Ikkaku caught it, but pretended he didn’t.

“Yeah, it’s probably gonna be some kidou thing, though,” Hammerhead whispered back. “Then he’ll be out, which is a real shame.”

Ikkaku almost spun around to tell those guys to stop flapping their gums, when Yumichika gave a shout of victory, and the Hollow burst into a cloud of glimmering motes that rose into the suddenly bright afternoon sky.

From Zaraki’s shoulder, Yachiru clapped and squealed. “Wheee! I like the way Yun-Yun fights! That was so pretty!”

Yumichika shook the blood off his sword with a graceful snap of his wrist. Tossing his hair, he looked directly at Ikkaku and favored him with a gleaming, cat-like grin.

“Yeah,” Ikkaku echoed. “It sure was.”

* * *

Ikkaku was pissed. He was late to the bar, which was bad enough in and of itself, but the reason he was late to the bar was because the Vice-Captain of the First had come by and felt the need to yell at him about a bunch of shit that was the lieutenant’s job. When Ikkaku explained that _Yachiru_ was the lieutenant, not him, that mustache-bastard had given him the hairy eyeball and just kept laying into him about “budget projections” and “lieutenant’s meetings.”

Ikkaku had resolved to find the man in a dark alley and murder him, although it was going to be a little hard, because he’d forgotten the guy’s name immediately.

In any case, he was at the bar now. Ikkaku scanned the room quickly, and spotted Yumichika talking animatedly to that Iba guy.

“She wasn’t happy about it, for sure, but she approved it from the Squad 3 end,” Iba was saying. “You think Zaraki’ll be a problem?”

A dark feeling pooled in Ikkaku’s stomach. He had half expected this was coming, but he sure hadn’t expected to hear about it by walking into the middle of a bar conversation.

“Oh, no, I’ve got him all figured out. I’ll talk him into it.”

Ikkaku plopped down into the seat next to Yumichika. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Congratulations are in order!” Yumichika hummed. His whole body was practically vibrating with cheerful energy. It was really weird when he got like this.

“Well, soon,” Iba corrected.

“You’re transferring?” Ikkaku grunted at Yumichika. “I’m surprised Three agreed to take you, not knowing any kidou and shit. Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll pick it up quick, with how fucking smart you are.”

Yumichika was staring at him with a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

“Naw, man,” Iba corrected. “I’m putting in a transfer to Eleven. That open Fourth Seat was too much to resist.”

“He knows a lot about paperwork,” Yumichika bit off crisply. “And all that other squad maintenance minutia you and Yachiru can’t be bothered with.”

“I’m gonna be a Vice-Captain someday,” Iba bragged. “So I really don’t mind taking over a lot of that stuff. It’s good experience.”

“Lucky us, huh, Ikkaku?” Yumichika gritted his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s great, actually!” Ikkaku echoed. His body was simultaneously flooding with relief that Yumichika wasn’t leaving and horror that Yumichika was clearly _pissed_ at him.

“You know, I feel a really terrible headache coming on, and I’ll have horrible bags under my eyes tomorrow if I don’t get right to bed,” Yumichika announced. “Ikkaku, can you be a _pal_ and help Iba get to know more of our squad mates?”

“I already know a bunch of them,” Iba tried to excuse.

“You don’t want me to walk you home?” Ikkaku offered.

_“No_ ,” Yumichika replied.

* * *

Yumichika still wasn’t talking to him the next morning.

It was Saturday, so they didn’t have to go anywhere. Later on in the day, there would probably be some casual fights, but Squad 11 on the whole liked to sleep in. This sucked. Saturday mornings were for lounging in bed, for enjoying a roof with no leaks and a futon with no vermin, and stroking Yumichika’s silky hair while he snoozed. Ikkaku had decided that he definitely missed Yumi’s longer hairstyle, but it had gotten a lot silkier in the last few weeks, which made up for it.

Instead, he’d watched Yumichika angrily brew tea (only for himself). After balefully drinking his anger tea, he’d proceeded to check on his houseplants. He spoke to them soothingly and gently as he trimmed off little dead bits, and rotated them to catch the sunlight.

Finally, Ikkaku couldn’t take this anymore. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed off about the idea of transferring to another squad,” he announced. “I think you should, actually. You can go learn your magic sword shit and be in a place where other people care if the paperwork gets done or not, instead of trying to do it all yourself. I’m sure you’ll make a lot of new friends who like clothes and singing and that other classy shit you like. I mean, we can still fuck, if you want. You know me, I’m always good for a fuck. Lots of people fuck who don’t live together.”

Yumichika stood frozen in front of his dragon plant. His face was turning steadily paler, except for two bright circles on his cheeks. He was making a strange expression, his mouth and nose scrunching, his mouth pressed into a thin line. It wasn’t a very beautiful face, but Ikkaku knew far better than to point that out.

“Did it ever occur to you, _you fucking idiot_ ,” Yumichika bit off, “that I wasn’t trying to _make the best of things_ in a place that I hate, but that I was _trying to make a home_ for _both of us_ , in _this place that you love_? It’s so obvious that you belong here, in this raccoon-infested garbage heap, but I want you to exist in a company that attracts and keeps the best fighters! A company that’s respected within the Gotei and assigned the most dangerous and exciting missions! And I want you to live in a place that is beautiful and peaceful and comfortable!” He sprang to his feet angrily. “I’m sorry I thought you would want these things! I’m sorry everything is _wasted_ on you! Maybe I _will_ transfer to someplace where I’m not _a pain!”_

He stalked across the room, into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.

_Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck._ This was bad. This was both better and worse than Ikkaku had thought it would be. He wished his brain worked better. It wasn’t fair, really, for Yumichika to do this to him, knowing how hopeless he was on his own. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was exactly fair.

“Are you… are you just gonna stay in the bathroom?”

_“Yes! Forever!”_

Ikkaku stood up. “You don’t have to do that. I’m goin’ out.”

* * *

Up until the point of his afterlife that he was aware of, Ikkaku had never really had a problem that required consulting with another person. In the Rukon, his problems had largely consisted of finding a) fights, b) finding food, and c) finding booze. If he’d had a problem that required talking to another person, he would ask Yumichika, of course. It occurred to him, stupidly, that maybe the reason he’d had so few problems is that Yumichika had solved most of them before they actually became problems.

Ikkaku had already pinpointed most of the weaknesses and fighting peccadilloes of the various goons of Squad 11, but he didn’t actually know any of them well enough to want to talk to them. He briefly considered Yumichika’s new friends. The Matsumoto lady was probably a good choice, but Ikkaku assumed she would either laugh at him or refuse to help him. Or, most likely, laugh at him _and then_ refuse to help him. Iba seemed like a stand-up guy, but he sort of exuded a general air of bad judgement, especially when it came to romance-y shit.

Damn. Is that what this was? Romance-y shit? Ikkaku was _fucked._

In the end, he went to go see Zaraki. He did not actually intend to bring up his problem to Zaraki, but at least he felt like being around someone as block-headed as himself would make him feel a little better.

Zaraki was sitting out on the porch of his quarters, drinking. He grinned toothily when he saw Ikkaku walk up and offered him a saucer. Yachiru was running around in the grass, trying to feed dango to a chicken. Ikkaku didn’t know where she’d gotten the chicken and he honestly didn’t want to know. She was wearing a pretty little kimono that was covered in syrup from the dango. Zaraki seemed to find the whole proceedings hilarious.

It was weird, Ikkaku thought, seeing Zaraki happy like this. To be fair, a small child shouting at a chicken _was_ pretty hilarious, especially when you were just a little bit drunk.

Normally, Ikkaku would be down for getting a little toasted and having a laugh, but the very idea of being at Squad 11 without Yumichika was starting to get to him. He and Zaraki could run this shitshow together, just fine, right?

“Hey, boss,” Ikkaku started. “Seems like a lot of people have been leaving the squad.”

“Eh, probably cowards,” Zaraki sniffed. “Let ‘em go.”

Ikkaku frowned. _Someone_ had to care about this shit, it wasn’t just going to take care of itself. “Y’ain’t worried we’ll run out of people to fight?”

“New folks’ll show up, I’m sure.”

Ikkaku sucked his teeth. He didn’t like having ideas and he certainly didn’t like telling other people about ideas that he had, but there was one that had been rolling around in his head for a while. “I thought of something that might pull in people who like to fight. We hold a big brawl, see, a real slobberknocker. Talk it up a lot and make it sound like a real good time. Anyone who can defeat one of our seats, gets into the squad.”

“I”ll take anyone who likes to fight, anyway,” Zaraki shrugged philosophically.

“Yeah, but I think we get a lot of crummy people that way. I think making it a little harder to get in would give it some, y’know. Prestige.”

Zaraki snorted. “Sounds like some bullshit, but go ahead and try it if you want.”

Now that he’d said the idea out loud, Ikkaku was rather proud of it. He _did_ want to try it, actually. Worst case, they still got to have a big, sloppy free-for-all. “I just want our squad to be respected, y’know?”

“Eh, I got a plan for that! Remember I told you I was gonna fight one of the other captains?”

“Oh, you got one to fight you?”

“Not yet, but you know the old guy at Six? Turns out he’s got a _grandson_ over at Thirteen who I hear is a real hothead. I figure if I pound that snotty little brat into a paste, Granddad’ll want to fight me for sure.”

“Hmm,” Ikkaku replied. He was pretty sure that Six was one of those Ancestral Squads run by one of the big, powerful Seireitei noble families. Ikkaku was not one to shy away from bad ideas, but this seemed like it might be a _horrifically_ bad idea. “Have you asked the captain of Seven, yet? A guy I know was talking about him the other day-- big guy, pretty quiet, but real strong, apparently. Not too full of himself like some of those others.”

“The bucket head guy!” Zaraki replied, snapping his fingers. “Yeah, he’s so quiet, I didn’t think to ask.”

“Seems like a better bet to me,” Ikkaku appraised, making a note to himself to get the scoop on the nobles from Yumi before… before… _shit._ His stomach sank. Maybe he and Zaraki could run this squad on their own and maybe they couldn’t. It didn’t really matter, because Ikkaku didn’t want to. He wanted to tell his ideas to Yumichika, who would tell him how stupid they were, and then fix them and make them great. He wanted to care about this dumb squad with Yumichika. He wanted to do _everything_ with Yumichika.

Yachiru ran up to Zaraki, waving a disgusting glob of rice at him. “Kenny! Feathery Yachiru is full! Do you want this one!”

“Yeah, sure,” Zaraki agreed, stuffing the dango in his mouth.

“Sorry, Baldy!” she trilled. “I don’t have any more! I can make you a mudpie, if you want!”

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he replied, hefting himself to his feet. “Where’d you get those anyway?”

“The sweet shop with the pink curtains where the nice lady with the braids works! Shun-Shun showed me where it is!”

“I do not know who Shun-Shun is,” Zaraki put in.

“Perfect,” Ikkaku replied.

* * *

Slowly, Ikkaku eased the front door open. “Hey… you aren’t still in the bathroom, are you?”

“I am not,” Yumichika replied imperiously. “I am giving myself a facial, and allowing my memories of your morning stupidity to be drawn from my pores along with any excess oils.”

“Er, okay,” Ikkaku agreed, easing into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Yumichika was lying on his decorative pillows again, his face covered in greenish-brown goop, with slices of cucumber over his eyes.

“I’m not sure how much stupidity those cucumbers are gonna hold,” Ikkaku replied tentatively.

“It’s just the _memories_ of the stupidity,” Yumichika corrected. “Memories are very ethereal.”

“Oh.” Ikkaku cleared his throat. “I opened a bank account.”

Yumichika tried to frown, but the stuff on his face was too stiff. “You did what?”

“I really like what you’ve done with the quarters,” Ikkaku blurted out. “I think we should buy one big futon instead of just having two pushed together and I want to pay for it. And maybe after that, we could save up for one of those tables with the brazier underneath for wintertime, those seem really nice. Also, I bought you some stuff.”

Yumichika scrambled to sit up and peel the cucumbers from his eyes. Ikkaku shoved a pretty little bundle wrapped in red and white cloth at him. Eyeing Ikkaku skeptically, Yumichika untied it, revealing a little glass bowl containing a plant the size of his hand, its grey-green spikes tipped in purplish-pink.

“It’s an air plant,” Ikkaku announced, having made the shopkeeper repeat this to him three times. “It doesn’t even need dirt. You just have to sprinkle water on it once in a while. I thought-- I thought that was very beautiful. To not even get dirty, like other plants.”

Yumichika’s eyes went as wide. “That _is_ very beautiful.”

“I couldn’t find the sweet shop,” Ikkaku went on, making a face. “I looked. But on the way home, I found a guy selling grilled squid out of a cart, look at these babies!” In his other hand, he brandished two enormous squid on skewers, easily twice the size of the best ones you go out in Rukongai.

A very strange look had come over Yumichika’s face, although part of that might have been due to the mud mask. Ikkaku wondered if the squid had been a bad call.

“Let me go wash this off,” Yumichika said, his voice strangely thick. “Those are lovely squid, thank you.”

Ikkaku put the squid down (he even found a plate to put them on instead of putting them directly on the new table) before trailing Yumichika to the bathroom. He stood anxiously outside the door, listening to the sounds of water splashing. “I… I’m sorry, okay. It’s not that I wanted you to transfer, it’s just that I thought you wanted to. You followed me around all those years, and I figured it was just because you didn’t have anything better to do, and now there’s lots of better stuff to do and I didn’t want to hold you back. It’s not ‘cause I don’t like living with you and having you around, ‘cause I do.”

“I had already decided to forgive you, you know. You are very forgiven. You don’t have to say any of this.”

Ikkaku winced. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t want to talk about this shit, either, but he knew, in his gross, meaty heart, that if he let this go, this would happen _again_ and then they would have to talk about it _again_. Better to just get it over with once, eh? “I know I don’t, but I feel like you said something to me and I wanted to make sure I got it right.”

Yumichika leaned out the door, patting his cheeks with a towel. “What did I say? I say many things and mean almost none of them.”

“You said you wanted us to have a nice home,” Ikkaku replied. “And I think you did mean it, since you’ve obviously been workin’ so hard to make it true.” He sucked his teeth for a moment. “And the thing is, I think we were both trying to say that same thing, which is ‘I love you’, and if we’d just said it up front, we coulda saved ourselves a bunch of grief.” He paused. “Or maybe I got all that wrong.”

Yumichika stalked out of the bathroom and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Of course I love you, you smoking hot imbecile. I don’t prefer verbal expressions of affection-- they are inelegant, and often result in puffy eyes. But I suppose that advancing our relationship requires some degree of pragmatism over form, so I will _admit it_ for the sake of transparency.”

“Puffy eyes, huh?” Ikkaku brushed Yumichika’s hair away from his face, and took a long, grateful look at Yumichika’s beautiful eyes. “That’s too bad. I was kinda hoping sayin’ ‘I love yous’ would result in wild, messy sex.”

Yumichika frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps that, too.”

the end!


End file.
